Just a Haunting
by Inwenalas
Summary: An art forger's information leads Neal and Peter to a haunted mansion.


A/N: Because my friend Aline said I needed to write a Halloween fic.

Disclaimer: I don't own White Collar mistakes are mine.

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**Just a Haunting**

"A haunted mansion?" Neal asks Peter, trying hard not to roll his eyes.

"I didn't come up with this. In fact, I think this is a complete waste of time."

"Hey, no need to get defensive, this side of the car agrees."

Neal leans back and closes his eyes in an attempt to ignore the traffic in front of them. It's just another one of those boring days. He doesn't hate the job, it's better than spending the remainder of his time in an orange jumpsuit. The truth is that this job offers him a way to use his creativity legally. As long as he can stretch the word legal every once in a while, he knows he can do this FBI work.

"At this rate we'll be there around midnight," he jokes.

Peter ignores his partner's words and hits the horn.

"You're not trying to get us killed in a road rage incident, right?"

The FBI agent throws him a look that tells him to shut the hell up.

"Just saying that would be ironic."

Neal's convinced that if he dies it will be death by a bullet, as long as he's doing this job. His _previous job_ didn't offer a security net either, but at least he wasn't this _visible_ back then. He loved disappearing. Running wasn't exactly fun, but it had its charm. Neal goes back to closing his eyes.

"Neal, we're here."

The younger man opens his eyes and realizes that he's slept through the entire second half of the ride.

"I fell asleep?"

"I wish I could say the same," Peter replies, rubbing his eyes.

* * *

_Earlier…_

Peter hates interviewing criminals who don't cooperate. Especially the art forger in front of him is a real piece of work.

"Where are the paintings, Conrad?"

"Like I said, I've hidden them in a haunted mansion."

Peter tries hard not to show his annoyance, but he decides to play along. They already have enough evidence to put him away for quite a long time, but it would be nice to recover the actual paintings.

"Your buddy told us everything he knew, so it would be in your best interest to cooperate."

Damon Conrad grabs the notebook Peter placed in front of him and starts writing. He likes playing games, but this time he writes down an address. It's the eerie smile on his face that worries Peter.

"Enjoy," Conrad says, shoving the notebook towards Peter.

* * *

Neal's surprised when he sees the mansion. The abandoned building actually looks haunted for some reason. It also looks as if it's about to collapse, but Neal tries to ignore that information when he hears the floor crack under his feet.

"Hiding forged paintings in a _haunted_ mansion should be illegal."

Peter eyes Neal for a long moment. "It_ is _illegal."

The younger man shrugs in reply. "Tomato, tom_a_to."

Neal searches the first floor while Peter hunts for the paintings on the ground level. The lack of furniture feels strange and is just a little bit unsettling. Spider webs decorate some parts of the ceiling, but what bothers Neal the most is the complete absence of human life, of some kind of an atmosphere. The mansion feels as if it's inhabited by the reaper himself. It may be irrational to feel this uneasy, but Neal can't help it. Something's off, he tells himself.

The first two rooms he checks lead to nothing. Empty chambers are easy to investigate. Touching the walls, Neal discovers a space behind the wooden boards. His expectations aren't far from the truth. His eyes widen in admiration when he sees the paintings, they're simply brilliant and for one of the first times in his life he wonders if he could've done a better job.

Excitement flows through his body, the kind of excitement he remembers from his first few years as a conman. It's like a vibe he can't ignore, deny or control for that matter.

"Peter!" he yells as soon as he nears the mansion's main staircase. He's pretty sure Peter can hear him. "I found the paintings."

In his excitement he doesn't sense the presence behind him. He's falling before he even realizes it. Neal manages to stay awake and keep his eyes open. He's having trouble breathing and his body hurts, but he needs to know who pushed him.

His eyes close and when they open again he finds himself staring at a wolf of some kind. Neal's never seen one like this before. He's certain he felt a human hand pushing him down the stairs, there's no way a wolf did it. The wild animal growls and moves closer. The ex-con is sure the beast is going to attack him.

"Neal!"

Peter aims for the wolf, but he doesn't want to risk shooting his partner. The animal seems to sense it's in danger and starts moving, away from Neal and towards the door behind Peter, leading to the kitchen. Keeping his weapon aimed at the beast, Peter slowly moves aside and allows it to escape. The escape Peter has in mind isn't much of a flight. As soon as the animal flees to the kitchen, the FBI agent closes the door behind it and locks the animal inside. He quickly makes his way to his partner on the floor and kneels down. He breathes a sigh of relief when he sees his consultant smile.

"Are you okay?" he asks, grabbing his phone.

"What is that thing?" Neal avoids his partner's question.

"I don't think I want to know."

Neal tries to sit up a little by leaning on his elbows. He hates the fact that Peter's calling for an ambulance, but he accepts it anyway. Peter finishes his phone call and turns his attention back to Neal.

"I don't see any gaping holes so I'm just going to ask. What hurts?"

"Head, ribs, left ankle. I feel a little sleepy."

"I'm going to help you sit against the wall. You can't fall asleep, you might have a concussion."

Neal's limbs don't feel like cooperating, but he tries. He's just happy the wall is only a few feet away. Squeezing his eyes shut he tries to ignore the pain the movement causes.

"Just breathe through it."

"Cowboy up?" Neal asks.

Peter just smiles in reply and places his right hand on his friend's head.

* * *

"Diana just called," Peter announces, sitting down in the chair next to Neal's temporary bed. For some reasons hospital cubicles give him the creeps, but he knows that nothing will top the animal he just saw today.

"And?" the younger man asks, trying hard to ignore the doctor's prodding. He can't help gasping in pain every once in a while.

"Whatever it was, it was gone by the time they got there."

"We didn't imagine this."

"I don't know how that… _beast_ got out of the kitchen, but we sure as hell didn't imagine this."

Neal smiles all of a sudden. "Conrad was right you know."

Peter just shakes his head in reply. "I refuse to believe in haunted mansions."

**The end**

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